


& we're set alight, we're afire love

by Jozxyqk



Category: London Spy
Genre: Developing Relationship, Dirty Talk, Fluff and Smut, Hand Jobs, I Love You, Innocence, M/M, Moaning, Orgasm, Porn with Feelings, Voyeurism, Wet Dream
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-19
Updated: 2015-11-19
Packaged: 2018-05-02 09:48:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5243795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jozxyqk/pseuds/Jozxyqk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>God, please let him be dreaming about me.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	& we're set alight, we're afire love

**Author's Note:**

> I promised more smut, didn't I? Ugh, I need to write these two being happy together like I need to breathe. 
> 
> Title from Afire Love by Ed Sheeran.

Alex shows up on the doorstep at 5.47 am. Danny swears and grumbles as he gets up, slides on a pair of jeans and goes to answer the door. He's never been good at mornings, even when he's been awake all night and the dregs of MDMA are still in his system. But his scowling face lights up at the sight of Alex (can he call him his lover yet?) in his running gear.His face is flushed with exertion and there are dark, bruised-looking circles under his eyes. 

“Come in,” Danny says, without waiting for Alex to speak because he doesn't need an explanation as to why Alex is here at such an ungodly hour of the morning. They met at 4.45 am, after all. He steps aside and lets Alex lead the way back up to the warm cocoon of his flat. Danny watches Alex's back as they ascend – rippling with muscle, grey fabric soaked dark with sweat. Alex is quiet – well, he's always quiet, but today it's a quiet that makes Danny notice it. They go into Danny's room. The sun has barely risen and his curtains are still drawn. Danny reaches down to switch on the blue fairy lights he's strung around his headboard and says, “Can I get you anything? Tea? Juice? Towel?”

“Tea would be great.” Alex says, and Danny can't help smiling. 

“Okay, luv. You can put the telly on, if you like.” He goes up on the balls of his feet to press a kiss to Alex's cheekbone, which is pleasantly cold and damp from his run, and heads to the kitchen.

When he comes back (two steaming mugs held precariously in one hand and a packet of garibaldi biscuits in the other), Alex is asleep. He's lying on his back, shirt stripped off along with his sweats, neatly folded over the back of a chair. Danny chuckles to himself. They've been seeing each other for weeks now, and Alex is still too polite to get naked in Danny's bed. Or _on_ his bed, rather – he's even tidied it before falling asleep, plumped Danny's pillows and tucked all the ends in nice and neatly. 

“You're so adorable,” Danny says under his breath. 

And he knows it's daft, knows he's a romantic idiot in love, but he puts the tea down, gets his desk chair and pulls it to the end of the bed, sits down and just looks at Alex. Like Aurora, nude and vulnerable. Danny doesn't think he's yet had the opportunity to just _look_ at him before, without distractions. So he sits very still, and just drinks him in.

Alex is incredibly, stunningly beautiful. Danny knows that already, but illuminated by the fairy lights and the light slowly filtering in through the curtains, it almost hurts to look at him. Slow heat blooms in the pit of Danny's stomach until he's almost breathless with it. He gazes, hungry and tender, at Alex's face – sharp nose, defined cheekbones – his toned chest and stomach with the light trail of hair leading down to his white briefs. Danny gulps and exhales shakily, because even though this is his sort-of boyfriend, there's something a bit stalkerish about ogling the outline of Alex's cock showing clearly through his underwear. 

Danny gets up from his chair and starts tidying the things on his desk as quietly as he can, picking up discarded clothing from the floor and folding it. He's still breathing rapidly, feels weak at the knees, and he can't remember any guy ever making him feel like this. Even the blond bearded Dom who'd seduced him while he was working behind a bar in Soho. When there's nothing else left to tidy, he takes a sip of his tea, and straightens the pile of books on his bedside table, in unconscious imitation of the way Alex adjusted the menu the first time they'd gone out together.

Alex moans.

Danny shoots upright and spins around. His first thought is that Alex is having a nightmare, and the look on the man's face is not exactly reassuring. Alex's brows are drawn down, he's biting at his lower lip as if he's in pain, and Danny is all set to lie down beside him and wrap him in an embrace. To soothe him, wake him gently if he needs to. But then Alex sighs, shifts, makes another softer noise, and Danny glances down again. He's hard. Danny's breath catches like a hook in his throat. 

So, not a nightmare, then. A sex dream, clearly.

Alex's hardness is confined in the briefs, but Danny can tell that if he were naked, it would be straining upward towards his belly. It's enticing. Danny forgets all about feeling a bit stalkery – the man he loves is almost fully nude and dreaming about having sex right in front of him, and he's only human. He goes to his knees by the bed, leaning his elbows on the duvet so he can watch this sensationally erotic event unfold. He can smell Alex, clean sweat and the unmistakeable heavy, heady scent of male arousal. Alex's hand is on his stomach, fingers slightly curled, and they twitch a little as Danny breathes warm air over his body. God. He wants to see Alex touch himself. _Does_ Alex ever even touch himself? Danny has imagined him doing so, countless times, but Alex is so tightly wound – he supposes it's possible he never does. Which means Danny is watching potentially years of pent-up desire taking over his gorgeous form.

Alex moans again, mouth open in a moue of pleasure and Danny wonders how he'd mistaken it for a pained expression. He watches, hypnotised, as Alex's hips shift, tilting just slightly upward, and his thighs part. Danny inhales, swallowing a moan of his own as a small spot of wetness forms slowly, soaking the fabric covering the tip of Alex's cock. His mouth waters. He wonders if Alex is dreaming about him. 

_God, please let him be dreaming about me._

Alex's eyelids flutter and his hand moves down a few inches, towards his erection. _Fucking hell._ It's beautiful. Thick and curved and Danny can remember exactly how it felt against his own, even through layers of denim. He gulps, fingers itching to touch and stroke. His own cock is painfully hard. Something has to give.

Alex's hips are rocking steadily upwards now, the way they did when Danny was sitting astride him, but in dreamlike, slumberous slow motion. Another moan, higher and more needful, trickles from his lips. Danny mouths several swear words, eyes flicking rapidly between Alex's lovely face (sweet and open with what can only be described as sexual bliss) and his cock (now almost visibly throbbing and soaking through his white briefs). He's tempted - _so_ tempted – to reach out take hold of Alex's wrist, move his hand just those few inches so he's thrusting into his own palm instead of into the air. 

Whatever Alex is dreaming about, it must be pretty intense, because he's panting now, softly whimpering on every breath. How can he be so shy and seemingly so innocent, yet become this gorgeous debauched creature right before Danny's eyes? A flush stains his neck and chest and he's moving so restlessly, so relentlessly. He's so wet now, Danny can see the blood-dark flesh of his erection where it's sticking to saturated cotton. And he keeps making those _noises_...

“Ah... mm... oh... ooh...” and Danny licks his suddenly dry lips, watching Alex's face intently. He's going to come soon, Danny suddenly realises. He's getting closer, really close, and he's going to come and Danny is going to get to see him do it. The idea is simply so fucking erotic, Danny's breathing is pretty much matching Alex's. 

Alex's chest heaves, his perfect nipples standing to attention, and Danny wants to touch and suck on them, rub his thumbs over and lick them, to push Alex over the edge he's so desperately seeking.

“Please,” Alex gasps suddenly, a little slurred, slightly louder than a whisper. Danny clenches his fists, his eyes drawn inevitably back to Alex's cock. It isn't twitching anymore but pulsing, jerking in his briefs, rubbing against the fabric, and Alex's moans are rising in pitch and volume every time it does. Danny leans closer – fuck, he can _feel_ the heat from Alex's skin, and sighs into his ear.

“Come on, darlin', come – come for me, let it go...”

Another exquisite, frustrated groan from Alex – it's as if he can't _quite_ get there. Danny knows the feeling well from his own wet dreams – imagination makes it feel real, but without stimulation... 

He could just reach down and help, he's pretty sure just a brush of his fingers would do it at this point, but they have barely been naked together yet and he can't, he won't let himself touch Alex while he's sleeping, when he hasn't consented. He doesn't see Alex's eyes open briefly. He's watching, lower lip between his teeth, stomach coiled in a knot of desire – as Alex's hand suddenly moves lightening-fast to cup himself, arching upwards into his palm. Alex wails as he finally comes against his hand, shuddering all over.

“Danny,” he whimpers at the end of a sated moan, and before he can silence himself, Danny answers with his own high-pitched whine of need. His gaze snaps back to Alex's face. The man is gasping now, his muscles going slack as he comes down from his orgasm. Danny isn't sure if he's awake or asleep, if he knows Danny is watching. He's just so bloody beautiful. And in the last two months, he's become Danny's best friend, his confidant, his favourite person in all the world. He's so clever and his voice makes Danny shiver and he _cares_ and Danny knows it – despite everything. He knows it. He can't not know it.

“God, I love you, Alex.” he says in a rush, without thinking. And Alex's eyes are open. He's staring up at Danny, and Danny thinks _oh_ and _shit_ and _I love you, Alex_ , the colour draining out of his face. But Alex is pink-cheeked and his face is spreading into a sweet blissful sated smile. He blinks slowly, like a cat saying _yes, you make stroke me now_ , and some of the feeling comes back into Danny's legs.

“I love you, too.”

It's the first time they've said it, though Danny had known for weeks and actually he's pretty sure he'd known the first time Alex had taken him out for breakfast. He grins, leans down and kisses Alex - _his_ Alex, this sleepy sated open happy Alex whom he's rapidly learning he can bring out with intimacy and sexual affection. He thinks of Alex running with sweat on his back, Alex hunched over his laptop with his face creased in concentration, Alex clean and pressed in his posh suits. All his Alexes.

“That had to be a pretty incredible dream,” he murmurs, leaning back as Alex gets up from the bed and strips off his sticky underwear, and somehow being naked isn't a big deal now. 

“It was.” Alex tells him, smiling. “I can't believe I just made myself come in front of you and your response was to tell me you love me.” 

Danny blushes, ducks his head a little sheepishly. “You were beautiful,” he mutters, “It was sexy.” Alex exhales quietly, disbelieving. 

“Awkward schoolboy, more like.” he says.

“Well,” Danny steps close, tugs Alex's hand to his jean-clad erection. Alex gasps, blinks at him, bites his lip. 

“Danny,” he whispers, “Do you want me to...” He trails off, holding Danny's gaze helplessly. Danny does want him to. So badly.

“Only if you do.” he says softly. “Won't take long. I, um – really enjoyed watching you get off.”

“Yes?” Alex's eyes are darkening. He's deftly unzipping Danny's jeans and sliding inside, holding him in his hand. Danny groans, lets his head fall onto Alex's shoulder, and Alex steps back, pulling him onto the bed.

“Mm... I love how you sound.” Danny continues, “You – _ah_ – you moan so beautifully.”

“So do you.”

“I wanted to... to touch you. Wanted to help you come.” Alex's breath is hot against his cheek as he brings Danny's cock out.

“Alex – you don't have to...”

“Yes,” Alex groans, kissing the soft hairs by Danny's ear, “Yes, I do.”

“Is this what you were dreaming about?” Danny asks as Alex grips him, starts slowly stroking. He's wet, and pre-cum drips over Alex's knuckles.

“Something like it.”

And then they're kissing, teeth bumping clumsily but it's delightful, and Danny is so aware that Alex is nude while he is clothed and his hand reaches out to stroke over the man's smooth skin. His stomach, pecs, biceps, neck, cheek. Alex's hand is slow but relentless on him, gliding on Danny's clear slick. It feels _so_ good. Danny shudders and cries out into the kiss, feeling his balls tighten.

“Are you...?” Alex breaks the kiss to ask, searching Danny's face.

“Yeah, I'm close,” Danny moans.

“I want you to... I want to see you come, please... will you? For me?”

Danny fully intends to say _yes, oh god, Alex, I'm gonna come for you,_ but his oncoming orgasm has made him incapable of speech. Alex nudges his shirt up over his belly (so he doesn't make a mess of it, because Alex is so adorably fastidious like that) and Danny comes. Alex strokes him through it, coaxing thick spurts out of him all over his flat stomach. A little ends up on his shirt after all but Alex doesn't notice. His eyes are too bright, curious, delighted, as he watches Danny spill himself. Danny gives himself over to the pleasure and tips his head back, moaning Alex's name, and then again.

“You need a shower,” Alex teases gently when Danny opens his eyes again. He looks down at himself, at his cock which is, heroically, at half-mast again, still gleaming with his own release. “I need one, too.”

Ten minutes later, they're under the warm spray in Danny's shower, sudsy hands carefully exploring wet skin. Danny's cheeks ache from smiling and his lips tingle with soapy kisses. Half an hour after that, they're sitting cross-legged on Danny's tidy bed, hair still wet, drinking fresh cups of tea and eating garibaldis. It isn't even 7 am and it's already the best day Danny's ever had.


End file.
